


Escalation

by Tcharlatan



Series: Zakuro [2]
Category: Dir en grey, X JAPAN
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Anal Sex, Class Differences, Enemies to Friends, Fight Sex, First Meetings, Hate Sex, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tcharlatan/pseuds/Tcharlatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Prequel to Miwaku no Zakuro] From the moment he laid eyes on the man, Kaoru disliked Yoshiki Hayashi. Yoshiki was an aristocrat to the core; born to a perfect, loving family, raised in a perfect, beautiful house, groomed with every possible advantage to be a perfectly entitled gentleman. Kaoru was a patently obvious slum rat; the tattered, criminal product of a negligent, destitute household. And they both knew it the second they saw one another.</p><p>(AU - no prior familiarity with characters necessary)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escalation

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of pure fiction. I do not personally know any of the members of Dir en grey or X Japan, and do not profit from this work.

From the moment he laid eyes on the man, Kaoru disliked Yoshiki Hayashi.

It wasn’t because of their differences, necessarily, though Yoshiki was as the sun on a summer’s afternoon, and Kaoru was a new moon in the dead of winter, so those were numerous enough to cause strife on their own. Yoshiki was a toned, tan vision of health where Kaoru was deathly pale, only just coming to cross the line between gaunt and lean after years of malnutrition. Yoshiki held himself straight – proud and proper – and Kaoru moved in the graceful, slightly-hunched stalking motions of a predator. Yoshiki traveled with a group of laughing, smiling socialites; Kaoru kept others at bay with a sharp, kohl-lined glare and rarely spoke. Yoshiki had a flawless crop of golden, sweetly-waving hair, and Kaoru had a wild shock of purple spikes with a trailing tail of glossy black braids. Yoshiki wore designer label clothes, every stitch cut and every color dyed in a way that flawlessly accentuated his looks and build; Kaoru wore all black garments that hugged the sharp angles of his torso and hung as a shroud around his slender legs.

Yoshiki was an aristocrat to the core; born to a perfect, loving family, raised in a perfect, beautiful house, groomed with every possible advantage to be a perfectly entitled gentleman. Kaoru was a patently obvious slum rat; the tattered, criminal product of a negligent, destitute household. And they both knew it the second they saw one another.

All of these things, Kaoru could get past, maddening as they could be at times. The vast majority of people at school had led more comfortable lives than his, and he had resented them for as long as he could before it simply became too tiresome to be so angry all the time. He wasn’t poor anymore, anyway; his brother had taken control of a powerful mafia family and even without Osamu’s support, he himself held a secure, respected position in the organization. But when that smug son of a bitch first walked into the classroom they would be sharing for the next semester and saw those differences – saw Kaoru for who and what he had been for the past twenty years – he had smirked with such haughty arrogance and amusement that Kaoru’s blood boiled.

Yoshiki had sat in the last available seat, right next to him, and ran laughing eyes over the younger man. When his gaze landed on the bright blue flames so awkwardly and lovingly etched into Kaoru’s pale hand, his mouth had spread into a decidedly mocking grin, baring disgustingly perfect, white teeth.

“Nice tattoo. Were you drunk, or did you lose a bet?” a damnably smooth, elegant voice had purred.

It was too much. Yoshiki was too accurate an embodiment of everything he’d never had, and he tasted hatred thick and bitter on the back of his tongue at the quip. Kaoru wasn’t necessarily proud of what he was – quite the opposite, at times. That was why he was going to college in the first place; to better himself. But he was stubborn enough to cut off his own nose just to spite his face if it crossed him, and damned if he was going to let this arrogant prick make him feel like he was worth less than anyone else in this room. Not for anything, and certainly not for Die’s gift.

He’d sneered, his words almost incomprehensible through the combination of a heavy Kansai accent and the rough drawl of the slums. “Nah. Jus’ gets real boring in prison.”

“Alright, everyone!” the teacher had called out brightly, quieting the room. Kaoru had turned his attention to her, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth as Yoshiki tried to mask no small amount of alarm at his response. “Welcome to Communications 101!”

That first interaction set the tone for the next few months. Yoshiki and Kaoru put some amount of effort into simply ignoring one another, but oftentimes they just couldn’t hold back the snide jabs and comments that came to mind. Kaoru thought Yoshiki was a useless fop, spoiled rotten and inexperienced in the harsher realities of life; Yoshiki thought Kaoru was a filthy thug, an ignorant criminal who had no place in an institution for higher learning; and they made their feelings for one another perfectly clear. They both believed the other contributed absolutely nothing to society and – worse yet – quieter parts of them both believed that the other might be right. Under all of that, Kaoru came to envy Yoshiki’s poise in spite of himself, and Yoshiki came to covet Kaoru’s freedom, all of which only ignited further cycles of posturing and spite.

Eventually, finals started to approach, and no small amount of relief came from the knowledge that with the end of this semester would come the end of their association. The class had been easy enough so far, and they weren’t worried in the least about the assignment. That is, right up until the teacher announced that it was a group project, and she’d paired people up based on their responses to previous assignments, deliberately putting students together with someone they had very little in common with. The oldest student in class got paired with the youngest. A girl who had been raised in the city was partnered with a boy from out in the country. Someone with four siblings was matched up with an only child. And Kaoru got Yoshiki.

For the rest of the hour, while the rest of the class chatted awkwardly, trying to get to know their new partners, Kaoru and Yoshiki could only stare at one another, the teacher’s parting instructions echoing in their heads. There would be no changing partners; they were stuck together. This project accounted for a quarter of their grades; they couldn’t botch it. No class time would be allotted to work on it; they had to meet independently. It was due at the end of the week. Kaoru’s jaw worked as he ground his teeth. Yoshiki’s face was twisted with either irritation or outright disgust. Both were fully and absolutely convinced that their partner was entirely worthless, and that they would end up having to do the entire project themselves.

“…So.” Kaoru eventually ground out as the teacher moved to dismiss the class.

Yoshiki cleared his throat. “Right. Let’s just get this finished and over with, shall we? I dislike procrastination. When are you next available to meet up?”

Kaoru bristled a bit at the insinuation. “I’m busy today. I c’n do it tomorrow, after two.”

“That works for me as well.” Yoshiki scribbled down his name, phone number, and an address in the dorms. “Here. Come over after your class, and we can get to work.”

Kaoru scowled at the command. “Why yer place?”

Yoshiki ran a quick, but blatantly derisive eye over Kaoru. “It’s close-by. And _clean_.”

Kaoru could have screamed. He lived in a mansion, damn it all! He had a massive suite of rooms all to himself, comfortably furnished and kept impossibly clean by a fleet of housekeepers. And this snobby prick was just so sure he lived in some rundown, filthy hovel – all the more galling for the fact that up until a year or so ago, it had been true – he had to physically bite down on his tongue to keep himself from insisting they go to his house just so he could shove it in the bastard’s face. But he couldn’t, because his was a home of criminals and secrets, and that knowledge infuriated him. So he simply slung his backpack over one shoulder and stalked out of the classroom, seething quietly all the way home. He had a job tonight, and as soon as he was done with his homework, whoever had crossed his family enough to warrant the hit was going to suffer for his ill temper. Maybe he would even test out one of his new poisons, and imagine Yoshiki in his victim’s place.

~*~

Yoshiki’s roommate – a sweet, somewhat quiet young man everyone called Pata – had lingered in the shared dorm after Kaoru’s arrival, hoping to help mediate the obvious strife between the two men. He’d heard the blond gripe about one slight or another suffered at the end of Kaoru’s sharp tongue over the course of the semester enough times to know this project was not going to get done quickly, easily, or painlessly without someone more patient to keep them in line. But he didn’t know Kaoru. He never expected them to _both_ be obsessive compulsive, overbearing control freaks who wanted every last little thing to be just so and who believed that no one other than themselves could do anything right. An hour later found him slinking out of the dorm, wide-eyed and shaking a little under the force of his own frustration as he abandoned the effort.

“Insufferable jackasses…”

Kaoru and Yoshiki never even noticed him leave, glaring at one another from opposite sides of a small table littered with books, papers, and two laptops.

“I ain’t some goddamn research monkey fer you t’ boss around!” Kaoru hissed angrily.

“Look, all I’m saying is that it will be easier for you if you just collect the data and let me worry about putting everything together,” Yoshiki asserted coldly.

“I don’t need ya t’ make it easy fer me, I c’n write papers just fuckin’ fine!”

“You can’t even speak properly! And if we’re writing about fashion in the workplace as a form of non-verbal communication, it would be best if it came from someone with more experience!”

“I ain’t turnin’ in ten pages of ya masturbatin’ over Giorgio fuckin’ Armani! An’ what th’ fuck would _you_ know about any kind of workplace, ya worthless ponce?!”

“More than you, I’m sure! Skeezy alleys in Kabukicho where hookers go to meet their heroine dealers don’t qualify as ‘workplaces,’ just so we’re clear.”

“Who th’ fuck’re _you_ t’ judge either? Not like yer spoiled ass ever missed s’ much as a single damn meal, t’ understand why they do what they do! Why can’t ya make th’ presentation, an’ just let me do th’ damn paper?”

Yoshiki stood, looming over the younger man across the table. “Perhaps I’m just trying to spare the poor nerd you’ll no doubt threaten to write it for you in a pathetic attempt to salvage your grades!”

Kaoru lurched to his feet, pointing one finger at the end of Yoshiki’s long nose. “ _Fuck you!_ I do my own work an’ my grades’re perfect!” He stayed after school almost every day to ensure that fact. He was smart, but he wasn’t educated, and it had been no easy feat. “What difference does it make t’ you anyways; yer daddy would jus’ hire somebody t’ write it fer ya!”

Yoshiki swiped irritably at one of Kaoru’s purple spikes. “Watch where you point those things, you’ll put out someone’s eye.” He couldn’t argue the point; his father had offered more than once to purchase his success. It was a savage blow to his pride every time. “And at least I know who my father is. Is ‘Niikura’ actually your last name, or just your mother’s best guess?”

It was a shot in the dark, but it struck a very deep chord in Kaoru, and his fist lashed out in retaliation before he could stop himself, catching Yoshiki across the cheek. Yoshiki cried out, outraged, and struck back, landing a glancing blow against the street rat’s sharp jaw. Kaoru grabbed one end of the table between them and flung it aside, ramming full-force into the blonde as all of their work and supplies went flying. Yoshiki caught him in a grapple, trying to hold him off for a moment, before one of the smaller man’s legs struck out and knocked his feet out from under him, sending them both toppling. They shouted and snarled incoherently at one another, Yoshiki’s superior size and strength warring with Kaoru’s experience and agility, both of them driven by rage and indignation as they punched, kicked, and wrestled wildly across the floor.

It wasn’t long before experience and agility won out. Kaoru managed to get Yoshiki pinned, one hand fisted in the front of the man’s shirt as he punched him three times in succession; once in the mouth, once in the jaw, and once just outside the eye. There was a brief lull then as they glared at one another, panting harshly as they soaked in all the anger and resentment pouring out between them. Something in the tension shifted to a strain that was… _baser_ , but no less heated, and Yoshiki was the first to succumb to it. His hand shot out to grab a handful of Kaoru’s hair and drag him down by it, leaning up to crush their lips together. The younger man froze for the space of several rapid heartbeats, eyes wide, then jerked away.

“What-… what th’ fuck was that?!” he demanded.

Yoshiki just stared up at him, tongue sliding out briefly to collect the blood collecting around the split in his lip from being punched. Then the older man’s mouth – tattered as it was – twisted into a challenging smirk and Kaoru snarled. Yoshiki lunged forward and they met again and the fight began anew, but this time they battled with teeth and tongues rather than fists, lapping at one another’s mouths with a furious sort of hunger. The aristocrat was the aggressor here, driving into Kaoru as if seeking to taste and consume the secrets at his core, but the younger man fought against the invasion with equal ferocity. Under Kaoru’s cola and cigarettes and Yoshiki’s honeyed tea, they both tasted blood, and neither knew for sure whose it was, only that the copper tang served to incite them further.

One elegant, perfectly manicured hand found its way to the ebony braids trailing down Kaoru’s spine and yanked, jerking his head back and startling a furious cry out of him even as his hips bucked forward. A low groan rumbled out of Yoshiki at the sight of the long, pale neck presented to him and he latched onto it, using Kaoru’s distraction to flip their positions as he sucked and bit a vicious hickey into the slum rat’s flesh. Kaoru dug black-painted nails into the older man’s shoulders, letting out a noise somewhere between a growl and a purr as he ground himself up against the body pinning his own. The heat, the friction, the violence between them was intoxicating and the urge to equalize – to tarnish and be tarnished by each other for what they were and what they weren’t, what they couldn’t have and were disgusted by but envied nonetheless – set their hearts pounding.

The blonde broke off at length when the need to breathe became overwhelming and dark chocolate eyes flashed with determination as four hands set to fumbling, tugging, ripping at clothes. A gauzy black tee shirt landed in tatters, a pristine white dress shirt falling to curl around it sympathetically. Buttons snapped loose and scattered, limbs squirmed and yanked free of constricting folds, mouths sought and found more of those hateful kisses until nothing remained between Yoshiki and Kaoru but sweat and ire that made their skin burn on contact. Yoshiki pressed the purple-haired man’s thighs apart with his knees and ground into the narrow hips until they both fell apart again – Kaoru’s head falling back to the floor, Yoshiki’s to Kaoru’s shoulder – to loose indulgent groans and breathy curses.

“You smell better than I thought you would,” Yoshiki panted. “Only a little like sewage.”

“Yer mouth’s like a whore’s cunt,” Kaoru snarled in return. “Too loose fer anybody’s good, like ya jus’ can’t keep th’ damn thing shut.”

Yoshiki grunted and jammed two fingers into the younger man’s mouth to shut him up, the rest of his hand spreading out to dig into the sharp jawline as he mimicked fucking that spiteful maw. Kaoru’s eyes flared angrily, biting down once before another sharp yank on his hair and the delicious drag of the bastard’s erection over his own overcame his temper. This wasn’t what he was used to, and a very big part of him was railing at his relegation to the bottom position of this encounter, but every time he bucked up against Yoshiki, the man pushed him down harder, and the forceful contact was as exhilarating as it was maddening. If he was being honest with himself, he would be forced to admit that it all just felt too damn good to fight against; regardless of their positions, he just wanted to fuck the arrogance right off that smug face.

One pale leg came up to wrap around the backs of Yoshiki’s thighs, pulling him down to crush their hips together in a way that reduced them both to mindless rutting for a moment before control could be regained. Yoshiki shifted, taking his hand from Kaoru’s face to grope blindly with saliva-slicked fingers until he found the other’s entrance and pressed the first digit in roughly. The heat he found was so much tighter than he’d ever expected, and he found himself latching onto the bruised neck again just to keep from moaning out loud in anticipation. Kaoru could only bite back a curse as he dug angry grooves into the blonde’s back and shoulders, eyes rolling back into his head at the heady mixture of pleasure, pain, and expectation.

The forced consideration of preparation was almost too much for either of them to bear, but it was as wild a struggle as all their others had been. Kaoru writhed and panted and swore as Yoshiki pressed him further and further open, managing to wriggle a second finger in shortly after the first. The long digits twisted and prodded within the purple-haired street rat to seek out and assault the spot that made him arch off the ground, breath catching in his throat. Yoshiki tasted the ruddy tang of blood being pulled through the skin he’d been so fiercely sucking on and released his hold, running his tongue instead over the knobby swell of Kaoru’s Adam’s apple as it bobbed with every swallow and groan. Eventually he decided it was just going to have to be good enough and pulled his fingers free, wrapping his hand instead around the boney hips beneath his own.

Kaoru felt the first, faint niggle of rationality since this whole thing began and tensed up, thighs closing up as much as they could around the knees spreading them as he brought one hand up to push at Yoshiki, the other groping out to one side to where he’d last seen his backpack. The aristocrat growled impatiently at the interruption, head twisting around to try to see what Kaoru was after. Comprehension struck as a small front pocket was unzipped to spill out over the floor. With a jumbled mess of a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, pens, and make-up containers came three shiny foil packets boasting extra lubrication and Yoshiki snatched one up, tearing it open with his teeth. He hastily unrolled the condom over his length and Kaoru relaxed again, his head falling back against the floor as Yoshiki hitched one of his legs almost up to his chest, folding him nearly in half and spreading him wide.

“Fuckin’ son of a _bitch,”_ Kaoru hissed through gritted teeth as hard, slick heat slowly pierced him, stretching his entrance and the tender flesh beyond so much further than the invasive fingers had.

The vulgar words spilling forth in that drawling, jarring accent sent a shiver of thrill through Yoshiki, even as ecstasy enveloped him. For all the hard edges and boney angles and that damned sharp tongue that made up Kaoru’s exterior, the flesh currently swallowing him scant millimeters at a time was thoroughly and utterly divine; just yielding enough to allow him access, constrictive enough to make him see stars. His hips fell into a steady, shallow rhythm, pushing in and out of that tight channel, reaching a little deeper with each forward thrust. Beneath him, Kaoru was gasping for air, inhaling deeply every time Yoshiki pulled back onto exhale in a sharp huff when he pressed back in and slowly – ever so slowly, as he began to loosen and the sharp ache of stretching faded – the younger man started canting his hips back to meet each thrust.

“Shit…” Yoshiki groaned.

Kaoru was certain he had never heard the aristocrat curse before. He liked it more than he would have expected, or would ever admit. He grabbed onto disheveled blonde hair and dragged the man down by it, splitting his lip against his own teeth as they crashed together in another round of sloppy, violent kissing. Everything devolved from there; Yoshiki’s steady rocking falling to wild, powerful thrusting that brought the muscles in his abdomen into sharp, sweat-slicked relief as Kaoru ate at the older man’s mouth, pushing his tongue in roughly and swallowing the low moans that crept out of the blonde. Hands wandered, pulling at hair and clawing at flesh and exploring hard enough to leave bruises as narrow hips beat into one another almost abusively. The sick slap of skin against skin underscored a heady cacophony of grunts, groans, and muffled cries of utter bliss, and it was a certainty that anyone currently under, next to, or in the hall outside of Yoshiki’s dorm knew exactly what was happening in his living room.

Still, it wasn’t enough. Kaoru pulled back with a wet smack of blooded lips to hiss into the older man’s ear, “If yer gonna fuck me, fuck me proper, ya goddamned fairy!”

Growling, Yoshiki pulled out, startling an irate shout out of Kaoru, before grabbing the younger man by the arm and flipping him over. Kaoru barely had time to throw his hands up to catch himself as he was shoved facefirst into the floor. Yoshiki found those long black braids twisting and spreading out across a narrow back absolutely captivating and wrapped the lot of them around his fist even as he brought one knee to push insistently at Kaoru’s groin. The street rat snarled over one shoulder but rose to his knees nonetheless, spreading his legs and bracing for impact as the aristocrat pushed inside of him once more. Neither could hold back their groans of satisfaction at the new position; the angle letting Yoshiki push deeper than before and strike at Kaoru’s center with far more force.

When the hand that wasn’t holding the longer portion of his hair in a death grip came down to fist around his ache, it only took a few rough pumps before Kaoru finally broke, a shuddering groan falling past thin lips as he spilled his load over Yoshiki’s fingers. The older man moaned at the constriction around his cock that Kaoru’s orgasm treated him to, arching his back and slamming into the lean body beneath his to seek his pleasure. When he came, he accidently yanked on the handful of braids and earned an angry hiss out of the slum rat, but it came with another sharp squeeze that made his climax almost brutally satisfying. For a long time, neither man moved, focusing all of their energy on breathing and settling from the aftershocks of their coupling.

Eventually, Kaoru’s eyes narrowed, and he jerked one arm back to shove Yoshiki off of himself. The blonde landed on his hip, blinking in a dazed confusion as Kaoru grabbed up his clothes and stalked – limping more than a little – into the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself. Yoshiki swallowed as he heard the shower squeal to life and the weight of what they just did finally struck him. Quietly, he set to cleaning up himself and the room; tying off and discarding the condom, wiping himself clean with a towel from the kitchenette, redressing, and slowly gathering the mess of school supplies from around the over-turned table. By the time the shower shut off, he had the room more or less returned to its former state – though the musky scent of sex, blood, and sweat hung sharply in the air – and he was sitting on the couch with one leg bent up against his chest, awkwardly waiting for Kaoru to return. He had absolutely no idea what to say to the younger man.

When Kaoru emerged, he didn’t speak a single word, crossing the room to gather up his backpack and shove all of his supplies into it carelessly. His shirt went in as well, too badly torn to wear anymore, and his hands were shaking with anger, exertion, or some combination of more complicated emotions that he had no way of dealing with. When he went to leave, bare-chested and damp from his shower, Yoshiki stood.

“Wait, hang on,” he called, moving quickly into his own bedroom. “Let me just give you…”

He trailed off and Kaoru felt indignant fire flood his veins. “’F you try t’ give me money righ’ now, I swear t’ God _I will kill you.”_

Yoshiki faltered in the doorway, slightly stunned because he felt, somehow, that the threat was not an idle one. Keeping his distance, he held out the item he’d gone to fetch; a simple white dress shirt of a fine, heavy material that was smooth to the touch. “No, I-… Your shirt is ruined, take this one. It’s too small for me, but it should fit you well enough.”

Kaoru glared at him for a moment, trying to determine if the offering was one of peace or pity. At length, he dropped his backpack and snatched the shirt out of the older man’s hand, shrugging into it with sharp, jerky motions. His hands shook just a bit as he did up the buttons, but Yoshiki made no motion to help, knowing that attempting to do so would likely result in another punch in the face. Somehow, seeing Kaoru then – his hair hanging soft and loose around his face, wearing a nice shirt over his black pants, face scrubbed clean of its customary mask of subtle-yet-striking cosmetics – Yoshiki couldn’t help but be stricken by the graceful aura that seemed to hang over the younger man. It was a deadly sort of grace, to be certain, and one that had not yet been fully honed, boiling just under the surface, but he knew in that moment that Kaoru Niikura could never be just a simple street thug. Then he was turning to leave, bag slung over his shoulder, head bowed just slightly, tension rolling off of him in waves and filling the room, and Yoshiki felt like something was about to be lost.

“Kaoru…” he murmured uncertainly.

One slender hand hovered over the doorknob and Kaoru stood, unmoving, for a long moment. Slowly, dark chocolate eyes came around to regard Yoshiki critically, barely visible through the veil of violet obscuring his profile. Yoshiki didn’t know – would never know – what Kaoru saw then; whether he too had changed in some way in the younger man’s eyes, or whether the man’s hate had simply softened a bit. Either way, the malice slowly drained out that gaze, replaced by grudging acceptance, and when Kaoru shifted his weight, the tension in the room seemed to fade.

“You do th’ presentation. I’ll do th’ paper.”

Yoshiki just nodded, his voice soft. “Alright.”

Kaoru faced the door again. “An’ later, nancyboy… I’ll teach ya how t’ fight, if ya teach me how t’ talk proper.”

Yoshiki couldn’t help the slow grin that spread across his face at the proposition, hearing the shift in intent behind the insult.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, guttertrash.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is how Kaoru and Yoshiki became friends! How awkward! For those of you who didn't know, Kaoru had a bit of an accent growing up, and even as of Zakuro - which starts eight years after this - he has to work very hard to speak properly and stand up straight. It never came up in MnZ, but one of the best ways to tell that he's absolutely blind, sh!tfaced drunk is that the accent will start to creep back in. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
